Let's Go To Prison, Washington!
by Brovenger
Summary: Wash has an... interesting experience as he goes to hardcore jail for the first time...ever. Oh and his cellmate has some issues.


Washington was pissed.

He walked slowly, glaring around at everything in front of him as the corrections officer led him through the back entrance of the prison. He shouldn't be here damn it, he wasn't a criminal! …Okay, well, technically he was a criminal, his actions had been for the better good, goddammit! He wasn't like the other people here; rapists, murderers, thieves, cons. Okay, so, technically he was murderer too, but South had it coming, she shot him in the back first!

The guard leading him was a bulky blonde woman who had a very big gun on her hip. She looked like she could bench press a fucking bus, so he'd decided early on he'd just listen to her and nod his head when applicable, and any complaints would just be silent and inside his head. Besides, the warden had been very specific about what to do with complaints when he'd met the man earlier, and he didn't feel like asking anyone to shove an addressed envelope up his rectum.

…yeah, an hour later and that still wasn't that funny.

At least the warden had been honest and spot-on when he'd said he had a "notoriously dry sense of humor."

Wash let out a small sigh as the guard stopped him in front of a door. She stuck a key on the lock and it beeped once, glowing green around the edges. She opened the door and motion for him to move first. He complied and stepped across the threshold. She reached forward and unlocked the handcuffs around his wrists, removing them.

"You try anything funny, and I'm gonna shoot you in the balls with a tranq," she said, tapping the gun on her side.

Well, at least she wasn't firing real bullets, maybe now he had a better chance at escape!

"Yeah, got it," he replied.

"Good. Now strip," she ordered.

Wash stared at her for a moment before sighing and pulling the shirt he was wearing up over his shoulders. He extended his hand and she took it from him, tossing it up on a counter as he removed his belt. He handed the belt over and bent down to remove his shoes. He frowned slightly; he really liked those shoes. They'd been a birthday present from South-

…suddenly, he didn't like those shoes so much. He tossed them over to the guard, along with his socks and dropped his pants. The guard raised an eyebrow as he pulled the garment off his legs and he rolled his eyes; like he was the only guy to ever go without underwear on laundry day. Then again, not wearing underwear to the sentencing that determined where he was gonna spend the next 20-35 years? Probably not the smartest move he'd ever made.

But you know what? Fuck it. He'd made plenty of smart moves in the last six months and he still ended up in fucking prison!

"All right," his escort said, and for a moment he had the irrational thought that she was just gonna toss him into the prison population butt naked, though she continued speaking, "stand over there, hold your arms out, spread your legs and again, don't do anything funny."

_What? Funny? But here I thought this was some weird form of foreplay!_ he thought bitterly. He wasn't in a good mood, for obvious reasons, and when Washington was in a foul mood, it came out with snarkiness that even Lopez the Heavy would be in awe of.

He stood a few feet away, over a drainage grate and watched as she walked over to a control panel on the wall. "Close your eyes, shut your moth and hold your breath," she said, pressing a button.

_Tch, what does she think, I'm gonna break out into screaming from a little bit of water?_

It took a few seconds for the water to catch up to the button-pressing, and even when it did, it started out as a little fizzing noise and a slight mist from various spots along the walls. Then it caught up entirely.

_Holy FUCK that is cold!_

Does mental screaming still count as actual screaming?

Wash frowned, turning around slowly as she told him to as he was sprayed with ice-cold fucking water for a minute or so. At least now, if ever asked, he could give a proper answer to what it feels like to have freezing water shoot up at your balls at the pressure that was slightly less than a fire-hose. Silver linings were in everything, he supposed…you know, because that totally useful information.

The water stopped for a few seconds, only to start up again. This time, it was hot as fuck. Yay.

After a few more minutes the water finally stopped, winding down slowly before it ceased entirely. He stood there, dripping, and now freezing cold as the air condition of the room kicked on for a while as she made a phone call. He could have sworn he heard a few things that were making it sound an awful lot like a personal call, and not a business one. Which meant he was naked, cold, and being ogled by a woman who was talking to probably her boyfriend or her kid or something. Wow, what a lovely fucking day.

Finally, she hung up the phone and jerked her head at a bar goring horizontal across the wall. "Stand over there," she said.

Wash walked over to the bar and she put his hands on it, standing behind him. "Lean forward, spread your legs."

_Spread my leg…wait… … …__**oh god.**_

The tell tale slap of a rubber glove being pulled on was, at the moment, the worst sound Wash could possibly ever hear. And yet, for some reason, the back of his mind made a comment about it sounding oddly like a condom. Great…now the two would forever be synonymous in his head.

He was quite proud of the fact that throughout everything that had happened he'd still been able to retain his dignity. The trial, which had gotten quite messy, hell even all the way back the Epsilon incident, he still knew that he had very few things to be ashamed of and feel genuinely embarrassed about. Quite frankly that always made him feel good about himself.

All of that was flushed from him as she pulled his ass cheeks apart and proceeded to jam her fingers up his anus. Hm, maybe having an addressed letter up there wouldn't have been do bad after all. Actually, was there still time for that? He'd much rather like to-

_Ow!_ he winced. _What the fuck was __**that**__?_

He shifted slightly as she probed around with her fingers, causing a lot of discomfort. Either she had no idea what she doing, which he highly doubted, or she just liked making hardened criminals squirm by having their assholes pried open and searched with a flashlight, which he highly believed. Satisfied that he apparently wasn't hiding anything in his butt, she removed her fingers and proceeded to 'search'…elsewhere.

_Wonderful, _he thought as she prodded around his crotch, _haven't gotten laid in five years, and the only action I'm gonna get between now and my possible release is this. _

Satisfied that he apparently wasn't doing…whatever she thought he may doing with his penis (seriously, what the fuck?) she made him turn around. "Open your mouth," she said, holding her hand up.

He complied at first, but then quickly slammed his jaws shut again when her fingers were merely an inch away. Her eyes narrowed.

"That had better not be the hand you just had in my rectum," he said flatly. She stared at him for a moment before sighing and switching hands. He groaned inwardly but opened his mouth nonetheless. She shined a flashlight at his mouth and stuck yet another finger in, sliding it under his tongue and down his throat a bit.

Eventually, she became of the notion that Wash wasn't hiding any drugs or weapons his mouth…or ass, or dick (again, what the _**fuck**_?) and he was allowed to dry off and change into his spiffy new prison jumpsuit. Well, at least it wasn't bright-fucking-orange.

It was an eight minute walk to his cell; a small ten-by-ten room with bars on the front of it. There was heavy-set man with a beard laying on the bottom bunk inside. The guard addressed him as she opened the cell and shoved Wash inside.

"Biederman, you got a roommate," she announced.

The man looked over at them as the guard undid Wash's handcuffs again. She gave them one last glare before slamming the cell door shut and turning, walking back to the main offices. Wash turned around, looking at his cellmate.

"Nelson Biederman," he said, sitting up.

"Agent Wa- …" Wash sighed. "Fuck it, just call me David."

"How about we stick to 'Dave'?" Biderman grunted. "Sounds less prissy."

_The fuck? My name isn't prissy!_ he mentally snapped. Aloud, he said, "yeah, sure," as he stacked his spare jumpsuit on the top bunk and climbed up.

A few minutes if silence passed before Biederman asked 'the' question.

"What're ya in fer?"

"Trying to make the world a better place, ironically enough," Wash answered. "You?"

"Fraternizing with the enemy during a time of war."

"Oh…wait, what?" Wash leaned over the side of the bunk. "You mean…our…alien enemies?"

Biederman glowered at him. "Son, you know of any _**other**_ enemies us humans have had recently?"

"…no."

"All right then."

Wash blinked a bit, laying back down and staring up at the ceiling. Now, he didn't scare easily, but the thought that he was going to be sleeping above a guy that was in jail for possibly having sex with the Covenant was just starting to unhinge him a little bit.

"If it makes yeh feel any better," Biederman said, "I always made sure ta' snap their necks first."

Oh great, make that sex with _dead_ Covenant.

* * *

**A/N: Who can guess the movie references in this fic?**


End file.
